


Maybe Next Time

by AggressiveStress



Series: Larry Stylinson One-Shots [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward, Cute, I don't really know what this is, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Louis is lonely, M/M, harry is adorable, some making out, theres a cafe, they're both awkward too, they're cute and cuddly, this is a one shot, this is my first attempt on this website
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AggressiveStress/pseuds/AggressiveStress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One in which Louis is lonely every December until he walks past a diner where a young man, Harry, invites him inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> ~ FINALLY EDITED AND REVISED ON 10/13/15 ~

December in England is one of the coldest, rainiest months of the year. Most tend to stay inside, cuddled up in blankets on the couch with their loved ones as they watch cheesy Christmas movies and sip at hot tea. The snow falling outside creates the perfect setting for all of those couples, giving them a movie-worthy background. But, then there are the people that just can’t keep a serious relationship so they're typically alone during this month. Those are the people that walk around England at 10 when it's dark and the safety of the streets is questionable as if they actually have somewhere to go. Unfortunately for him, Louis is one of those people.

He walks around at the same time every night, like it's his own special tradition. It isn’t a tradition he means to keep up. It seems that every December, Louis is single even if he had a nice relationship in the month before just like he did this year; he and his girlfriend had broken up  _two days_ before December 1st, which is just ridiculous. Every year, he's alone on December, and every year he walks around town every night at the same time with his hands in his coat pockets and his head down. If he had someone to go home to still, maybe he'd be one of those couples cuddling on the couch and wishing time would stand still. But now Louis just wishes the month would end.

One particularly cold night in December, Louis pulls on his coat and starts his walk; it's the same thing he's done every night since December descended upon England. He pushes his hands deep into his pockets, drops his head a little, and watches his feet move one step at a time toward nowhere. There are a few Christmas lights around his block, and the colors bounce off the crystals of snow covering the pavement. Louis rounds the corner of his block, dodging a person going in the opposite direction; the man on the phone was promising the person on the other line that he would be home soon and that, yes, he got the wine she wanted. He's one of those couples, Louis is sure. He's still kind of mourning over all those lost months he spent with his ungrateful girlfriend, who, in the end, told him he was clingy and that she "just needs some space to figure out herself," so she left and he hasn't heard from her since.

It's when light suddenly lands on his damp shoes that Louis lifts his head completely, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness. His breath puffs out in little white clouds right before his eyes, proving just how cold it is tonight. He stops walking completely and turns to find that a cafe is open, all the lights cut on and a roaring fire inside. Every other shop and restaurant on the street is closed by now, everyone having someone to get home to, everyone preferring their home; Louis wonders what that feels like. This cafe has been closed down because of management issues for the past three years, Louis remembers, but apparently those issues have been solved because there are about ten people inside tonight. Some of those couples that should be at home are instead curled up on the same side of booths with mugs in their hands and some kind of dessert sitting on the table in front of them; Louis notices that those people seem to be locked in intense gazes and he wonders if that ever gets uncomfortable or awkward.

“Hi!” a voice makes Louis snap his eyes from the windows to the front door. He's shocked to find a man standing behind the glass, looking at him expectantly with a nice smile on his equally nice face. Louis studies him closely.

He takes in the man’s curly dark brown hair that's messily made up on his head in a weirdly lovely way, falling in a way that frames his easy jaw and smooth cheekbones. Sparkling green eyes stare back at him; he looks almost eager in a way Louis would expect to see in the eyes of a child. He continues to take in the man’s extremely worn out boots, his dark blue sweater that matches the blue bandana pushing his hair away from his eyes, and his skin-tight black jeans; his legs are _endless_. Something stirs in Louis’ stomach, throwing him off and making him speechless for a second. He hasn't felt such things since the time he hooked up with another lad at his prom; it was the first guy he was ever technically "with". He'd gotten with the guy right after his first serious girlfriend dumped him; her excuse was that she caught Louis checking out other girls  _and_ guys and she wasn't "comfortable" in the relationship anymore. So, in an angry retaliation, Louis had followed his attractive guy classmate behind the bleachers; that was the first time he ever gave someone head, but the guy seemed to enjoy it. You would think Louis would've learned of his sexuality after that, but he never focused on it, too scared to face that reality.

He pulls himself from his memories, licking across his dry lips quickly, “Yes?” he wearily asks.

“You should come in,” the man gestures to the inside of the cafe, which is probably sweltering compared to the freezing night. It was a tempting offer, to say the least. Louis bites the inside of his cheek, contemplating on whether or not he should go inside.

Finally, he shakes his head and takes a step back, “Maybe next time.”

The man doesn’t seem too disappointed, he just watches Louis closely and asks, “Promise?” like it actually matters, like he actually wants Louis to come in for something other than business. Louis wonders what this man could possibly want with him; the man is far too gorgeous to let down, though.

“We’ll see,” Louis turns around and walks back towards his flat, not looking back.

 

* * *

 

Louis doesn’t know what it is about the man that keeps his mind occupied as he lay in bed, staring at his ceiling. It has to be only seven in the morning, but Louis hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. His mind is too fuzzy and too occupied to do anything but focus on one subject: the man from the cafe. Eventually, though, Louis has to force himself to get out of bed for a shower. With how much Cafe Boy enters his mind, he's almost annoyed. Annoyed at himself or the man, he doesn’t know. It's snowing again, just like every typical morning in England; it would be beautiful if Louis could concentrate on something different, but no. His mind continues to find things (such as the plaid shirt in the back of his closet) that remind Louis of the man he doesn’t even know the name of. He just wants a name at this point, hoping that would be enough to put himself at ease.

That day at work, Louis can only sit behind the counter and scribble possibilities on a piece of paper. He brainstorms names such as Nathan or Jake or Henry, and any other name he can think of that would fit the boy even in the slightest. His brain, however, can't focus on that, either, and it drifts to think up possibilities on what would’ve happened if Louis had agreed to go inside. What would've happened if he sat down and ordered a tea while watching the boy, watching him laugh and smile and just _be_ in that small cafe. Louis groans aloud and starts scribbling on the piece of paper he wrote the names on, drawing horrible little stick characters and cartoon animal faces in the margins and corners. He almost doesn't realize there'a a customer at his counter, looking to buy a Barbie toy; a present that's probably for the customer's daughter or niece.

Eventually, Louis' distracted nature gets so bad that his coworker and best friend, Stan, gets tired of it and asks Louis what the hell he's doing.

“Daydreaming,” Louis sighs in a way that could be classified as dreamy, but he will never admit to such things. He's a grown man, he doesn't sound dreamy over some guy he doesn't even know the name of.

Stan hops up on the counter next to the cash register, “I could tell, mate. When are you not? But I mean, what’re you thinking about now?”

“Just…" Louis hesitates, changes his mind, "Nothing. Nothing you need to worry about. Get off my counter.”

“Too bad. I'm already worried,” Stan slides off the counter, though, deciding it's easier to just drop the subject for now. He claps Louis on the shoulder, “Drinks tonight?” he invites even though he already knows the elder's answer. With every break up, Louis' need to drink only grows. At 22 years, he’s an expert at holding his alcohol. 

“I’ll meet you there,” Louis nods and Stan leaves to restock the aisles.

 

* * *

 

Louis has always hated walking home from the bar, but he can’t really help the fact that he doesn’t have the money to get to  _and_ from the bar every night. So he stumbles home, Stan going in the opposite direction because he's in the same state with no cash for a ride home, and he's a bit wasted. After a good mile, Louis pauses to stand against a building with his head tilted back, letting the cool of the bricks seep into his hot, flushed skin. Each snowflake that falls stings his cheeks and makes his nose redden more and more. Some get stuck in his eyelashes, but he doesn’t bother blinking them away because the cold helps numb him. That’s what he wants to be right now. He wants to remain numb and invincible to the cold, therefore being invincible to his raging thoughts.

“What’re you doing?” a soft voice breaks Louis out of his numbed thoughts.

He opens his eyes slowly and lets his head fall back down to look at the person interrupting his deep thinking. It's the guy. Of course it's the guy because Louis has somehow ended up at the cafe, and it's the wall of the cafe that he's leaning against. This moment couldn't possibly get anymore cliche, but Louis isn't complaining. His cheeks are red, but the color isn’t just because of the cold.

“What’s your name?” Louis blurts the question that's plagued him all day, cocking his head a bit. Just getting a name seems to be the most important thing right now.

The man doesn’t seem to find the question alarming or sudden; he simply chuckles, “Harry. And you?” Louis opens his mouth to answer but he's suddenly rendered speechless as the alcohol he consumed leaks into his behavior. He laughs as a rainbow suddenly surrounds the ma-  _Harry_ , making his girlish curves stand out; he's a very, very beautiful young man. Louis reaches out and pats the rainbow on Harry’s cheek, still laughing under his breath. “Are you plastered?” Harry raises an eyebrow, not pulling away from the elder man's hand.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Louis pinches his fingers close together, indicating a "little bit". He tries to step closer to really study the boy's face, but he only stumbles to the side, his temples starting to pound.

Harry catches him, “Careful there. Wouldn’t want that face of yours to get damaged,” he says, slinging one of Louis’ arms over his shoulders to help the man gain some balance. “Where do you live? I’ll call you a cab,” he offers, walking Louis to the doors of the cafe.

“No cab,” Louis disagrees, “No money for cab,” he yawns.

“I'll take care of it,” Harry helps Louis into the cafe. He drags him to a booth and makes him sit down while he fetches his cellphone from his coat in the back room. When he gets back to a drowsy Louis, the elder led is making faces in the reflection of the napkin holder, entertaining himself easily.

As promised, Harry calls Louis a cab and then he waits with Louis until it arrives. Louis is too wasted to do anything other than listen to Harry ramble about anything and everything that comes to mind. Louis doesn’t mind. Harry’s voice is like an angel, soft and smooth and completely seductive even if he doesn’t mean it to be. Nothing, Louis decides, is more beautiful than this boy and he still doesn’t know my name. He wants to tell him, he really does but that would mean cutting Harry off mid-sentence and that's not mannerly, so he shuts his trap and keeps listening.

By the time Harry stops talking about lamb chops, the cab has arrived outside of the cafe. “Alright, then, let’s go,” Harry hefts Louis’ arm back across his shoulders, giggling when Louis' fingers brush across his collarbone, a ticklish spot he has. Louis notices the giggle and makes his fingers do it again just so he can hear the giggle again; Harry doesn't disappoint, giggling and then scolding lightly, "Cut it out."

Louis walks carefully with Harry outside; he reluctantly sits down in the cab while Harry pulls out his wallet and hands the driver a few pounds. “Where do you live?” the cab driver asks Louis patiently; Louis rattles off his address and the driver nods.

However, Harry stops the driver before he can take off. “What’s your name?” Harry questions Louis; his hand is on the door, ready to close it.

Smirking, Louis whispers like it's a secret, “Maybe next time, Curly.”

“Promise?”

“We’ll see.” The door is shut and Harry watches until the cab turns the corner.

 

* * *

 

Louis wakes up disoriented after sleeping in the lobby of his flat building. He rubs his eyes, slowly pushes himself out of the small and uncomfortable seat he's been situated in, and trudges up to his bedroom in his half-awake state. As fast as he can manage, he takes some Tylenol before he gets dressed and forces himself to go to work. Stan chatters his ear off about football until his shift ends and he walks home just like every other day, hands shoved into his pockets. He scans the area around him, watching people getting home from work with bright smiles on their faces and people to actually go home to. He makes himself some tea when he finally gets home and he settles down on his couch, watching cheesy Christmas movies by himself while sipping at his tea until his clock hits 10, which is when he gets ready to start his walk.

He doesn’t know what it is that makes him take the turn that puts him on the street of the cafe, to be honest. Maybe it was the promise of fresh company and human interaction. Or maybe it was the thought of a delicious crumpet or some other dessert. In reality, it's probably the thought of being there with the cute guy in the silly little apron, but Louis wasn’t about admit that. Stuffing his hands deep into his pockets, he ducks his head and starts to pass the cafe until he stops; he stares into the cafe, debating on whether or not he should go in before he finally does (unsurprisingly). He pulls open the front door and steps into the heat where multiple couples are cuddling and eating together. The few single people inside are all gathered around the fire, chatting and laughing with mugs in their hands.

“You’re here,” Harry blurts as soon as he notices Louis standing at the front door, feeling lost about what to do next.

Louis gives a halfhearted smile and steps farther inside, closer to the younger guy, “Yeah. I’m here.”

“Well come on, let me treat you to some tea,” the boy gently grabs Louis by his bicep and tugs him to the counter. He holds on a little too long, just feeling the hard muscle of Louis’ bicep before he reluctantly lets go, trying not to be too obvious with his attraction. Louis slides onto a bar seat as Harry moves around to the other side of the bar, standing in front of Louis, leaning forward on the counter so they're impossibly close.

“What?” Louis fiddles with his fingers, dropping his gaze to the counter as he feels his cheeks heat up a bit more.

Harry quietly giggles, “What kind of tea would you like?” he asks sweetly.

Louis reads over the menu board before he orders the same tea he makes himself at home; Harry turns to make the cuppa and Louis takes that time to study Harry. He's incredibly tall, much taller than Louis, and his legs are long, thin, but with tight muscles. Biting his lip, Louis runs his eyes down the backside of the boy and realizes that the pose Harry is supporting just screams “sex on legs," he's seductive without knowing it. He's forced to snap himself out of his thoughts when Harry turns back around and places a bright orange mug on the counter in front of him. His hair is held back by another bandana today, Louis notices, but somehow he still manages to make the look seem kind of adorable. Louis feels like slapping himself. He shouldn’t be calling this young man adorable, but it's just the way Harry is slowly wiggling his way into Louis’ mind with every slight sway of his hips.

Said young man slightly cocks his head to the side, watching Louis, “Everything alright?” he looks genuinely confused.

“Yes,” Louis blinks and looks back down, “everything’s fine,” he stutters a little and blushes red again. To stop himself from talking and further embarrassing himself, he picks up the mug of tea and quickly takes a few sips of it. And, what do you know? The cuppa is exactly the way Louis likes it. Harry just keeps getting better and better by the second.

“Alright?” the younger inquires, nodding to the cuppa.

“Perfect,” Louis smiles at Harry, and he returns it, looking satisfied and proud of himself. It's cute.

After a few seconds of Harry staring Louis down, Louis realizes the boy may just be checking him out. At the realization, Louis coughs a bit awkwardly and he mentally scolds himself for being so shy at this moment; why can’t he be the fun, loud type? Well, he is. But that's with Stan when they're alone in his apartment and playing FIFA like their lives depended on it, or it was when he was in the city and partying with his footie buddies. Harry's different. He makes Louis feel and act different than he typically would. Harry doesn’t seem to mind; he stands, leaning against the counter while Louis flickers his eyes around, picks up his tea, takes a sip, sets down his tea, looks around, picks up the tea, takes a sip, and sets it down over and over again because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Eventually, Harry grins bemusedly and asks, “Can I get your name, Sunshine?”

Louis almost chokes on his tea, “What?”

“I'm sorry, was that too forward?” Harry raises his eyebrows, worried, leaning even farther over the counter so all Louis can do is hold eye-contact. The older bites his lip and moves his eyes from Harry’s just for them to land on the boys’ lips; his perfectly pink, lovely shaped, slightly puckered lips that just make his handsome face so much better. Louis moves his eyes back up to Harry’s eyes before his thoughts get carried away on the thought of the boys' sinful mouth.

“What?” Louis asks again, lost.

“I got you a cab and I bought you a tea,” Harry points out, gesturing to the tea like it's proof, “Can I at least get your name?”

“I never asked you to do these things for me,” Louis shoots back teasingly, relaxing when Harry pulls a couple of inches away. Even then, they're still extremely close and any passers would think they're about to kiss.

Harry’s lips tilt downwards, “So I don’t get a ki-name?” he quickly recovers. He, too, has a mind going to a completely different place.

Louis doesn’t fail to notice the blush that lights up Harry’s cheekbones. “Louis,” he gives in because the poor boy now looks completely flustered by his slip. What he wants to do is lean forward to close that last inch between them, to press his lips to Harry’s like he wouldn’t ever get another chance. His eyes suddenly glance at the clock above Harry’s head, and just like that the moment is ruined for him. "Ugh, I have to go," he curses, getting up to shrug his jacket back on.

“What? Where are you going?” Harry grabs his arm, stopping him from leaving without saying goodbye. No way was Harry going to let this gorgeous man slip through his fingers again.

“I have work in the morning,” Louis sighs, just as disappointed, “I have to go. Your company was lovely.”

At the compliment, Harry blushes. He asks, shyly, “Can I have a phone number?”

“Maybe next time,” Louis grins.

Harry quickly smiles back because this is just their thing now, “Promise?”

“We’ll see,” Louis doesn’t think it over before he leans forward and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Thanks for the tea,” he says, turns, and leaves the cafe to start walking back to his cold, empty flat. He's never hated his small, silent place as much as he did right then.

 

* * *

 

Louis taps his fingers on his knee, staring at the clock and wondering if maybe he should stop torturing himself like this. He's anticipating his trip to the cafe; he wants to go at the same time he has for the past couple nights to be sure Harry's working. Honestly, he only likes going out at night now because he knows he'll see the younger lad. Louis can’t help it that Harry's gorgeous and sweet and so  _innocent_. Louis hasn't ever been with someone that seems so innocent compared to himself. Then again, Louis hasn’t been with another man for years thanks to the slight obsession he had with his last ex-girlfriend; her father was a producer, and Louis had, at the time, decided getting close to her was his only chance at making his goals in life come true. There's no other reason why Louis stayed with that witch; she never really was good to him.

Once the clock hits ten, Louis jumps to his feet and snatches his coat from the back of his desk chair. Quickly, he buttons up the long black coat before he stands in front of his hallway mirror and combs his fingers through his hair a few times. He winces at his own reflection. All this staying up to talk with Harry and going to work early the next morning is starting to affect how big the bags under his eyes grow. He knows he can’t do much more to fix himself, so Louis just shoves his wallet into his back pocket along with his keys before he leaves, jogging downstairs because the elevator of his flat building is once again broken. The desk lady waves at him tiredly and he waves back, his hands itching to throw open the doors so his feet can fast walk him straight to the cafe; he's tired of waiting.

However, Louis is thoroughly disappointed when he enters the cafe and finds that Harry is nowhere to be seen. He frowns a bit and takes a seat at the counter, deciding he can wait a few minutes just to make sure Harry isn’t here. A waitress comes over and happily takes his order, which turns out to be just tea; he takes a sip of it when it's set in front of him, but it isn’t as nicely made as Harry’s. Before he met Harry, the tea would've been perfectly acceptable, but now all he can think about is how the boy hands him his tea as his green orbs watch Louis take the first sip. Once Louis hums his appreciation for the milk, the boy's eyes light up happily, pleased with the reaction. For a while, Louis stays seated at the counter and picks at the paws of his sweater while drinking one tea after the other; the waitress eventually realizes he's still there after two hours and she walks over, curious.

“Is there something I can do for you, dear?” she questions.

“What?” Louis looks up, shocked at the sudden intrusion to his bubble of silence, “Oh. Oh, no,” he swallows down the last of his fifth cup of tea.

The waitress takes the blue mug and gives him an odd look, “You look like you’re waiting for someone… Are you waiting for someone?” she refills the mug without Louis asking because she knows the young man won’t be leaving for a bit longer. Louis takes a taste of the tea, but it still isn’t as perfect as Harry’s; this batch is just a little too bitter.

He mentally curses the cute boy he's so infatuated with for ruining all other tea.

“I was, but…” Louis trails off and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Fine with me,” the waitress grins. “I’m Danielle, by the way.”

“Louis.”

Suddenly, Danielle gets this look on her face that says she's realized something, “ _Oh._ So  _that’s_ who you’re waiting for,” she chuckles.

“Excuse me?” Louis furrows his eyebrows, confused.

She waves him off, “Dear, you can go home. Harry isn’t working tonight. He took the night off to babysit his friends’ daughter, Lux. But he said that if a Louis stopped by to give him a note.” Louis waits patiently as she disappears into the kitchen, yells something to the cook, and finds the note Harry left him. She returns with a folded piece of paper in hand, blue ink leaking through the material. “Here you are, hun,” she hands it over and Louis stuffs it deep in his jeans’ pocket.

“Thank you,” Louis nods to her, standing up and pulling out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“Harry said to put your order on the house since he isn’t here; like he’s repaying you for your walk, so nothing. Have a good night, Louis.” Danielle disappears into the kitchen before Louis has time to protest.

He slips a good few pounds under his half-filled mug before he leaves anyway.

Louis throws himself down on his couch the minute he gets home and he twists the note in his fingers. It's crinkled by now, having been in his pocket for the past fifteen minutes of his walk, and the material feels much heavier than it actually is in his hands. This letter could contain anything, and that's what scares him. 

"You're a grown man," he huffs at himself, running his finger under the first flap, "stop acting like a school boy."

He unfolds it at last and quickly reads over it. 

**Dear Louis, sorry about forgetting to tell you I wouldn’t be working tonight. Well, that is if you care. It's fine if you don't. I just thought that, if you did, maybe you'd want to know why I wasn't there? Danielle will explain it, I think. Sorry I'm rambling. Anyway... I’ll repay you for your walk by buying whatever you ordered tonight (probably tea). Also, here’s my number- **** *******. Text me if you want. :)**

Once he's finished reading, Louis tosses the note onto his coffee table and rushes to grab his cell phone from his coat pocket; he carefully types a message to the number left on the paper.

 **_L:_ ** _ Maybe next time. _

Smiling to himself, he cuts on his television and sits back as a Rudolph movie instantly comes on. He sighes and flipped through the channels, eventually landing on a channel playing some crime movie. Louis jumps when his phone suddenly dings; he practically launches himself at the edge of the couch where he set it down. 

 **_H:_ ** _ Promise?_

Another smile lights up his face and he replies with the usual:  ** _L:_** _We’ll see._

_  
_

* * *

_  
_

“You’re not very fair,” Harry says as soon as Louis enters the cafe the next night.

“Says the one that stood me up,” Louis grins back teasingly.

“I was babysitting!” Harry gently shoves his shoulder, glaring at him playfully.

“And I was walking in the cold snow just to stop by for a cuppa and a chat with that young curly-haired lad that waits for my arrival.” Louis slides into a booth this time and Harry sits down across from him since it seems that there are too many people working tonight even though almost the entire cafe is full. With each passing night, the homey little place gains more and more attention from the public; Louis supposes that's partly due to the way Harry greets and befriends everyone that walks inside.

“I,” Harry points at Louis seriously, “do no such thing.”

“Sure,” Louis snorts.

“It’s true! I don’t wait…” Harry huffs, changes the subject, “You never texted me back,” he pouts.

Louis chuckles, “Are you sure you don’t wait, Curly?"

“Well, I was sure I would at least get a good morning text from my new friend. Is that so much to ask?”

“Some of us do work during the day, you know,” Louis points out smartly.

“Shuddup,” Harry rolls his eyes, reaching up and running his fingers through his hair almost tiredly. He looks around them at all the people scattered in the shop, and then he lets out a long, content sigh.

Louis' eyebrows hike up a bit at the sound, "What're you thinking about?"

“Would you look at this place?” he gestures around them, and Louis looks too. Almost every table is being taken up tonight by elders, by teenagers, by parents, by writers, artists, and businessmen. The cafe is a place for everyone, and it's a wonderful sight. “We’re almost entirely void of any space. All of these people have lives, you know. They come here to meet friends and to maybe find something worthwhile that could cheer them up a bit after a rough day. When my mum told me she was reopening a cafe to give to me for my birthday present, I thought she was pulling my leg. But then the boards were being taken off the windows and I was suddenly in charge of all of this. I had to get a staff, and everyone that works here had come to the original cafe when they were quite young. They know what the customers like, and I have done everything I can to keep the cafe semi-like it used to be.”

Louis watches him speak, but not just to ogle his perfectly plump and pink lips, but to also really get what Harry is saying. He never thought Harry would be so… mature. “How old are you, Harry?” Louis asks finally, wearily.

Harry's gaze falls to his hands on the table nervously, “…18,” he says quietly.

Mentally, Louis is screaming at himself that Harry is too young for him, barely at the legal age. Louis himself is 22, and that’s a good four years older than this young man that sits before him looking so innocent looking that’s it’s unbelievable he has to run a cafe by himself. It's amazing what Harry is doing; he's bringing people together by running this place, by getting to know the people that do come in so he can continue to introduce them to other people, to new friends. Louis bites his bottom lip- his bad habit- and his eyes lock back on Harry’s godly lips. Harry isn’t talking but his lips are still slightly parted, just enough to make them look puckered and damp. Louis wonders what they would feel like pressed against his own; it's a thought too imaginative for Louis right now.

“Interesting,” is all Louis says. Ten seconds of silence pass before he breaks the silence, steeling himself. He's tired of waiting for this. “I’d like to ask you out, Harold.”

Harry looks up, shocked, “Really?” His voice says excited but his eyes say surprised as if him revealing his age would've turned Louis off completely.

“Yes, Harold,  _really_ ,” Louis laughs, eyes running across the other boy's face. He reaches across the table and takes one of Harry’s big hands, gripping it between both of his own. His hands are huge, and Louis has shamelessly wanked to the thought of Harry’s hands on him. It's such an inappropriate thought for the current moment, but Louis can’t help himself. Harry is just so… delicious. “The question is, do you want to go out with me?”

Harry eagerly nods, his face blown into a wide smile, “Of course!”

“You’re a very eager lad, aren’t you?”

A blush spread itself over Harry’s cheekbones, “Maybe,” he murmurs.

“It’s cute,” Louis hums, reluctantly letting go of Harry’s hand.

Harry frowns, noticing the action, “Do you have to go?”

“Don’t worry, Curly. I have tomorrow off. What do you say we go out around 6?”

Harry agrees and stands up to lead Louis out of the cafe; he stops him when they get to the door. Louis is pulling on his coat, standing outside already while Harry remains just inside. It's like they're on completely sides of the universe at that second, one cold and one warm, one dark and one bright; the thing about these different sides is that they complete each other, the two opposites. They're perfect for each other.

“No good night kiss?” Harry cocks his head, eyes wide and mouth in a pout.

Louis has to hold himself back, has to physically make himself take a step farther away so he doesn't launch himself at the younger, “Maybe next time.”

“Promise?”

“We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

The next night, Louis is at the cafe at 6 on the dot and Harry is waiting outside, grinning brightly when he sees Louis pull up in Stan’s old SUV. Earlier, Louis informed Harry they’re going to something that requires a little dressing up; not over the top, though. So Harry has settled on a cheetah-print shirt, black blazer, black skinny jeans, and those godforsaken boots he's  _always_ wearing; Louis isn’t surprised at his attire in the least. He himself simply shrugged into a deep blue sweater, black blazer, black jeans, and some black Vans that stand out drastically from the rest of his attire. Harry slides into the car and Louis immediately grabs his hand, lifting it to his lips and grinning as he presses a kiss to it in a silent greeting; Harry giggles at the cute action.

“Nice to see you, too,” Harry giggles some more.

Louis looks at him, grin still in place, “You look amazing and yet you're still adorable,” he murmurs, pulling away from the curb.

The blush on the younger's face is lovely as he looks down at his knees and says, "Am not." Louis laughs and is about to teasingly argue back but Harry changes the subject before he can, "So where are you taking me?” he tilts his head, watching buildings pass the car.

“It’s a surprise, dear Harold,” Louis winks.

Harry huffs back, “How did I know that was coming?”

“Because it’s only the beginning of every first date  _ever_ ,” Louis states like he's explaining how to use crayons to a four year old.

Again, Harry giggles before going back to staring out the window, but neither disentangle their fingers from each other. Louis passes every restaurant Harry can possibly think of before he's turning onto a dark street, looking completely in his element. Harry doesn’t worry. He trusts Louis. There's just something about the older man that makes Harry’s head spin, his heart race, and makes him feel giddier than he knew was possible but in a good way, the best way. Swallowing, Harry squeezes Louis’ hand a little tighter and Louis squeezes back reassuringly; Louis turns one last corner and suddenly there are cars on both sides of the road, lining the sidewalk and close together to make room for even more cars trying to find a place to park.

Passing all of the cars, Louis pulls into a parking spot right in front of the door to the building that has a sign saying “reserved” beside it. “Stay here,” Louis instructs Harry seriously before he lets go of his hand, slides out of the SUV, and makes his way around the car to open Harry’s door for him.

Harry blushes, taking the hand Louis holds out to him so he can clamber out of the car and onto the icy road. “Where are we?” Harry wonders aloud, looking around at the expensive cars lining the sidewalks. Louis grins, proud of himself and his idea, not saying a word but tugging Harry toward the building that has a single streetlight on in front of it. The building is obviously old, the bricks faded, and the front door cracked almost entirely down the middle.

“Don’t feel nervous, alright?” Louis tells Harry, who slowly nods, unsure.

“Alright…” he trails off.

Louis knocks on the door of the old building and a man in a suit opens it, looking down at him, and immediately stepping aside to let he and Harry inside. “Welcome, Mr. Tomlinson,” the man says curtly; Louis nods back politely and tugs Harry farther inside.

Harry gulps, not making eye contact with the guy at the door, and obediently walks with Louis down a short hallway that eventually opens up to a much larger room and finally the younger realizes what they're doing. It's an art gallery. People in dresses and suits walk around carrying glasses of champagne, heels and expensive loafers clicking on the hardwood floors, and laughing together like old friends that had finally reunited. There are no paintings but instead pans of paint sitting around the room so people can make a picture of their own on the empty canvas' hanging on the walls. What they seem to be doing is putting their hand in the paint, finding a canvas, and drawing whatever they want to create art they can then buy if they want. Then, on the back wall, hangs a huge white tarp where everyone comes together with their paint-coated hands. By doing this, one huge painting is slowly being made out of hand prints or any other prints from the body. Harry is absolutely fascinated, watching people add their hand prints to the painting, like they're just adding a new piece to one spectacular puzzle.

“Boobear!” a woman calls, pushing through the crowd to get to Louis and Harry. Harry watches as the woman drags Louis into a tight hug; the smell of perfume and expensive champagne surrounds the woman, and it's homey scent. Louis hugs the woman back easily, a warm smile on his face.

“Hi, Mum,” Louis pulls back a little, placing his hands on her shoulder before moving them to gesture toward the boy beside him, “this is my date, Harry.”

The woman scans over Harry, slightly giggling at his cheetah print shirt and the height difference between the two boys. “Well aren’t you quite handsome? Nice one, Boobear. Your sisters never thought you’d find a good one.” Louis groans.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Tomlinson,” Harry acknowledges politely, smiling shyly.

“Please, call me Jay!” she exclaims. "Okay so, before I'm pulled away again, I just want to invite you to please add your hand prints to anything you see and feel free to take one home, on the house."

"Mum, we aren't here to-" Louis tries to explain that this date is solely to show Harry a lovely time, not to get his hands dirty (literally), but Harry interrupts.

"Oh, Lou, can we?" his eyes are big, excited, and how was Louis supposed to say no to that? He can't.

"Wonderful," Jay squeezes Harry's arm, "I hope to see you again soon, Harry, but I better go mingle. Have fun boys!” she turns and saunters back through the people. Immediately, women and men flock her and she takes the new company with easy.

Louis rolls his eyes at his own mum's antics (she always was one for grand entrances), but Harry speaks first, “She seems nice.”

“That’s the understatement of the century, Hazza," he shakes his head and then grabs Harry’s hand again, “Come on then. I had something special set up for us upstairs,” he pulls Harry through the crowd and to a thin door in a darker corner.

"Is your mum the host?" Harry curiously asks on the short walk.

The elder nods, "She does one of these things every December. All the proceeds go to different charities that need the donation and the big one in the back gets hung up at the children's hospital, so there's a new one every year. This year, I decided I wanted a date," he grins at Harry, who grins back happily. He really caught a nice one. Opening the door with a key he magically pulls from his pocket, Louis lets Harry go through the small door first and he locks the door behind them.

They walk up a long staircase and then Harry is gasping and his mouth falls open as he sees exactly what Louis has set up. Blankets and pillows are set up in a corner of the room, looking cozy and sweet and welcoming, and a basket of food is sitting beside it. Candles are the only things lighting up the room, other than the moonlight leaking through the skylight, and they're lit in almost every nook and cranny against the walls and on small tables, but the floor is the best thing yet. It's obviously one way glass so the two can look down on the entire party, but no one can look up and see them. Louis seems satisfied with himself, watching Harry’s reaction to his choice for their very first date. He takes his hand again, leading him across a beam that runs over the glass, and to the makeshift fort; he urges Harry to take off his coat and get comfortable by taking off his own coat. He sits down, pulling Harry down with him. They eat first, making conversation easily so there aren’t many awkward silences. It's all so perfect and Harry hopes there would be more of this to come.

The two laugh together, Harry blushing and cracking stupid little jokes and Louis telling embarrassing stories from his past. They drink champagne and munch on chocolate-covered strawberries for dessert. Harry asks questions and Louis answers, explaining that he lives alone in a small flat, works at a toy store his friend owns, wants to eventually be a successful label owner or a radio host, and he doesn't talk about his parents or siblings much because he doesn't like feeling as if he's bragging about the things his family owns, not him. In return, Harry offers that he lives alone in a flat above the cafe with his cats Molly and Dusty, loves what he's doing with his life and all of his past dreams changed the moment he plugged in the "OPEN" sign hanging on the cafe window, and he's constantly having lunch with his older sister, who lives further into the city while his mum regularly visits but spends most of her time travelling with her boyfriend. By the time the food has run out, they know enough about each other to have inside jokes and notice the other's little quirks.

Hours later, Harry ends up sitting comfortably on Louis' lap, letting Louis play with his curls. The elder laughs every time he tugs a curl just for it to bounce back to its original position, the strands so long that they don't change much. Harry bemusedly watches him for a bit, arms resting on his shoulders and hands linked behind Louis' head, before he says in the serene quiet of the room, “Thank you."

Louis pauses for a split second, but then he quickly continues his antics while asking, “For what?”

“For all of this. I’ve had a great time tonight.”

“Me too, Harold.”

“Stop calling me that. It's not even my full name,” Harry chuckles.

“What’s your last name?”

“Styles. Why?”

“Hm,” Louis hums. “You don’t have much style, though,” he teases. Harry hits him lightly on the chest in protest.

“Shuddup,” he murmurs, blushing a bit.

“You’re cute.”

“You’re very kind.”

“You're very oblivious."

"About what?"

Louis groans, rolls his eyes, "Just kiss me you fool.”

Nothing else needs to be said because Harry places his hands on both of Louis' cheeks and he leans down, pressing his lips against the elder's. Louis reaches up and grabs Harry's hands with his own, moving them so they're on his shoulders, then his hands fall to Harry's waist, urging him to move. The silent agreement is made and Harry shifts so he's straddling the man under him, very happy to let Louis deepen the kiss. Quickly running his tongue over Harry’s plump bottom lip, he smiles when Harry parts his lovely mouth, letting his tongue in to taste him. Harry feels Louis' hands slowly move down his back, tracing shapes into his slightly curved back,  before they land on his ass and squeeze a little; Harry gasps, giggles into Louis' mouth. The elder tangles his fingers into Harry’s hair, tugging on the locks to make Harry gasp a little. Louis grins. So Harry has a control fetish, how refreshing. Harry pushes Louis back so he's laying on the blankets and pillows, fingers teasing the waistline of Louis’ jeans and sweater.

Louis pulls back long enough to mutter against Harry's swollen mouth, “You’re a fucking tease, aren’t you?”

In response, the younger smirks, “So I’ve been told.”

Louis drags his lips down Harry’s jawline, leaving a fire trail of kisses in his wake. He attaches his lips to Harry’s neck, sucking and nipping at the area; Harry moans and grips tight to Louis’ hips. He shuts his eyes tight, feeling Louis take over him. The elder is everywhere, leaving him breathless and his head is spinning and everything is so, so hot. Unfortunately, it's still the first date and Louis refuses to be  _that_ date.

“Good God,” Louis pushes up behind him, sitting he and Harry up carefully.

Harry frowns deeply, his eyes opening again, “What are you doing? I thought we were gonna…” he trails off, suddenly blushing and embarrassed at himself. He feels like a fool, like he misinterpreted everything.

“I want to,” Louis quickly reassures, though, grabbing Harry's hands and gently running his thumb over his knuckles. “But this isn’t the place or the time. Maybe next time."

“Promise?”

“We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t happen next time, but it does three weeks later on the night of their 9th official date after Louis asks Harry to be his official boyfriend. Of course Harry said yes and then they were snogging on Louis' couch and Louis was on top of Harry and everything that happened next was perfect. Utterly, stupidly perfect. Harry continues his work at the cafe and Louis gets a job at a radio station closer to the cafe so he can take his lunch break and spend it at the cafe where Harry grins whenever Louis enters. The two are inseparable, and Louis is falling so hard for this young man that he doesn’t even notice when December finally ends. He spent his Christmas night sleeping in Harry’s arms, not worrying about getting cold because Harry is an extremely warm person and he's big enough to be a huge teddy bear. Louis doesn’t really like being a small spoon but he does it occasionally because he likes Harry’s arms holding him like his life depended on it, and Harry likes feeling like the protector once in a while.

“Boooooobear,” Harry cooes, poking Louis in his cheek to wake him up.

Louis mutters a few curses, turning away, “Leave me alone.”

“But you told me to wake up you back up at ten o’clock,” Harry points out, “You said you wanted to finally spend a December where you’re the one cuddling on the couch instead of walking around at night.”

It's currently a year after they first met, finally, and it's Louis’ goal to cuddle with Harry on _their_ couch with _their_ shades open so he can gloat. He can look out at the sidewalk and smile because he’s no longer walking those sidewalks alone during yet another lonely December; it's all thanks to Harry. Louis forces himself to roll over, seeing Harry lying on his side of their bed with his arm propping up his head. Grinning a little, Louis stretches and sits up; it takes a few minutes of moaning and groaning as his muscles pop, further awakening him, but he finally gets up and Harry follows close behind. He grabs a thick comforter, takes Harry’s hand with his free one, and drags the curly-haired boy out of their bedroom and into the living room where Louis drops down on the couch and Harry follows, wrapping the blanket around them and reaching for the remote on their coffee table to turn on a Christmas movie.

Louis sighs contentedly as Harry curls up next to him, leaning against his side and his curly little head resting on Louis' shoulder. The elder wraps an arm across his boyfriend's shoulders, presses a kiss to Harry's forehead, and whispers, "I love you," as he plays with his curls just like he did on their first date. 

“I love you, too,” Harry whispers back, snuggling closer, hand on Louis' chest and tracing little shapes there, “Would you marry me?” he asks seriously as Frosty the Snowman starts on the telly. There's tea steaming in mugs on the coffee table, snow is falling outside, and the candles sitting on their fireplace mantle makes their flat smell like Christmas and home, and it's just... it's exactly what Louis always wanted.

Even though he already has his answer, has a plan to ask Harry that exact question in a few days, on the anniversary of their first date, Louis answers instead, “Maybe next time.”

“Promise?”

“ _Definitely_.”

And in that moment, Louis knows his future Decembers are looking a lot better.

**Author's Note:**

> woW if you read that disaster then thank you so much! You're lovely just for giving it a chance. I hope you have a lovely rest of your morning/afternoon/night.
> 
> (Also if you leave kudos or a comment I love you even more because I'm honestly an awkward teenage girl writing secret gay fanfic and everything helps)


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